Why The Vampire Sleeps
by Christopher Mystique
Summary: A brief chronicle of the birth of a vampire within the grave. The narrator describes his transformation within the grave to shed new light on this rarely explored aspect of vampirism.


_The part that you don't know…the part that no vampire will ever openly discuss….I will, at last, answer this question. Why does the vampire sleep? In order to answer this question, I must relay to you my personal history. So, I will start without the usual literary fanfare that so often succeeds the prologue._

_**The Decent**_

In the beginning of a vampire's existence, just after the creature has been committed to the grave, the fledgling vampire has no substance or form. There is only an acute awareness of one's soul spiraling downward into a sea of darkness. Time has no place in this darkness eternal.

There are three types of souls here. The dreamer - a soul that has not fully realized death choosing, instead, to remain connected to the world of the living by existing in a vivid past memory. The ward of denial - a soul, much like the dreamer, that has explained away this altered existence with the hope of finding a way back to the world of the living. The believer - a soul that has witnessed and accepted death and openly embraces the hereafter.

There are many roads that lead a soul to the void. But for all, the journey ends the same, somewhere between what is and what is not….and the nightmare for which there are no words begins.

I was a dreamer.

There was a time when I thought that my death had been a dream. I fought against the riptide like a drowning swimmer fiercely determined to rise above the darkness. It is important to note here, for the record, that the void is an unquantifiable state. I express "upward" movement in relation to my limited understanding of the metaphysical. Thus, I give direction to the sensation of movement I experienced.

I cannot say with certainty when I first saw the light. The circumstances differ depending on the storyteller. However, one thing remains constant among all who have crossed over into the void. The light in all it's ethereal brilliance is beauty incarnate. Tendrils of radiant light slice across the void like flashes of lightning in the night sky pulsating in nameless hues. I reached for the light - not with human hands but with the appendages of my mind. I rose slowly. The light was warm and bright filling me with an overwhelming sense of tranquility. It became my single obsession. Nothing else mattered. Though I no longer possessed human senses, I had not realized how utterly frigid the void had been until that moment.

Finally, I understood and accepted my death and the promise held within the light and it was at that moment that I was inexplicably snatched from the light and dragged deeper into the darkness.

_**Echoes of Torture**_

It was as if the light above me had never been there.

For the first time, I cried out. Held firmly in the jaws of some malevolent unseen force, the psyche of my soul was set ablaze. Never had I felt pain so keenly. Never had I known the intimate touch of agony so completely. The beast fell upon me with a rage for which there is no description. And when it had devoured me completely, I was regurgitated into the darkness. The repeated this act again and again devouring and regurgitating devouring and regurgitating.

I pleaded for an end. Mercy did not exist here. Pain and Suffering mocked my pleas from some place deep within the darkness, taunting me.

Through the limitation of human understanding, my mind gave form to the other tortured souls around me. I caught a glimpse of a body strung from serrated chains by it's wrist and ankles. Blood flowed in pale shades of crimson from gaping wounds but never fell. The body suddenly quivered and shook violently against the restraints - no, something seized the body causing the convulsions I witnessed. And the beast's head came into view stretching around the torso. It's eyes glowed with colorless unlife. There was a dead fire behind them that hinted to something more sinister. The beast was ancient - timeless. Behind the façade that that my mind had, no doubt, created for the beast lay a visage more frightening than anything I could imagine. The thing stared back at me and smiled bearing row after row after row of razor sharp teeth causing me to recoil in fear. The head on the torso turned toward me and stared with black eyeless sockets.

In the next instant I was pulled out of the moment. Agony and pain demanded my complete attention and I would give it without hesitation.

With each consumption, I was reborn and with each rebirth came a twisted and more malignant form more susceptible to the sadistic whims of my torturer. There would be no reprieve from my sentence. There would be no respite from the agony. I counted each assault.

One , two, three, four….fifty eight, fifty nine, sixty….eight hundred twenty seven, eight hundred twenty eight….twenty thousand seven hundred eighty five….Three hundred forty four million nine hundred eleven…. Three billion eight million six hundred seventeen thousand three….

I lost count.

And it was when I had resigned myself to this fate worse than death that the feedings abruptly ended. My devourer had given me humanoid form and departed.

_**Clara Bloomfield**_

I laid there in the darkness, in silent contemplation - not realizing that, out of that place of torture, another world was becoming manifest.

A cold blue fire filled the room with pulsating aqua hues. My new eyes quickly adjusted to the slivers of moonlight dimly illuminating the dark spaces around me. To my surprise, I found that I was no longer bound to the construct in the center of the room. I moved the concrete barrier above me with one fluid motion. It slid effortlessly to the side with a gravelly grating sound.

I rose from my horizontal position and was suddenly overtaken by the "hunger".

The excruciating pain did not originate from my abdomen. My torturer had somehow integrated this special pain into the core of my being making it an integral part of me. I rose from my concrete tomb with a single thought and, in the next instant, found myself rushing through the night at a pace that caused time itself to stand still.

My only thought was relieving the unbearable fire burning within. I scarcely had room to reason or think beyond this. Most fledgling vampires are put to rest on the first night not having learned the ability to control the hunger. Vampire hunters maintain a constant vigil on cemeteries. That I was not apprehended on that first night was purely a stroke a blind luck.

I found a woman - in her mid to late forties - sitting alone in a park. I fell upon her with all the limitless compassion that had been shown me in the void. My ferocity knew no limit. My rage had no boundary. I was a mindless monster neither man nor animal. Feral. Feeding the hunger.

I remember reading of the incident in a local newspaper months later. Her name was Clara Bloomfield. She was a high school science teacher prone to long walks in the park and star gazing. She had both the admiration of her students and the respect of her colleagues. If ever such a person existed, Clara Bloomfield was the pillar of her community. She had been discovered dismembered, disemboweled, and completely devoid of blood. Parts of her body had been found strewn about the park for nearly a mile. I recall staring at the picture of Clara - not wanting to forget her warm smile or the sincerity in her eyes. Humanity for a young vampire is fleeting and virtually non-existent when the hunger compels. I had hoped that the memory of her face would stir within me the humanity that once existed there.

_**The First Night**_

I cannot recall much from that first night.

I did not feel. Texture was non-existent. The sensations of taste and smell, save the scent and flavor of blood on the night air, were lost to me. My body was different. I didn't breathe nor did I feel the wind against my skin. Yet I could feel Clara's blood pulsating through my veins. I recall a precipitous change in the night. Instinctively, I made my way back to the crypt. Sunrise loomed just over the horizon.

As the sun settled over a city still asleep, I was again dragged deep into the darkness between the jaws of my torturer. I was held taut - arms and legs stretched wide from serrated chains- and slowly drained by my assailant. When I had been fully relieved of all fluid, I was again expelled back into the world of the living and left in the darkness to writhe in agony, sick with the "hunger".

I understood clearly now. This is what it meant to be "damned". It was a fate worse than death to be endured for all eternity. I was a vessel for something irreprehensible. I was forever cursed to play the roles of both predator and prey. My insatiable appetite for the blood of the living is an extension for a more malevolent entity.

A vampire sleeps to sustain this greater evil.

_I realize that my account has no doubt left you with new unanswered questions. I will indulge your curiosity in the days and weeks to come. Until then, do not dismiss that noise somewhere in the darkness. It may cost you dearly._

**Why the Vampire Sleeps**

_~C Mystique_


End file.
